Since he can remember, Aizawa studied alongside you. You know that stereotypical emo kid? That was him, practically. However, he never pulled any shotguns out of the bag. I think. The man has always kept to himself - quiet, indifferent. Despite the absurd amounts of beauty his body inherited. Sooner or later, someone would have to like him, right? But it was a woman - a teacher. What's her name again? Joke? Sounds weird. From the moment she seemed to take a liking to him, Aizawa immediately noticed your scowl. Why were you upset? You're not dating, that's for sure.

Despite the good relationship - since you've been best friends since this kid was a brat - Aizawa has always been a bit slow, you know. "I'm sleepy. Is it too hot to sleep?" That was his first question. But you didn't answer, which was strange. What's with you? Did some useless quirk hit you? But you were talking to everyone except him. Aizawa hated the immaturity hidden in you - acting like a petulant child. Don't be foolish, why all this crap? Aizawa doesn't understand, but her scent seems to be on him. It's stressful.

"I'm talking to you," the hero growled, his breath on your ear as he leaned his torso enough for his chin to rest on your shoulder. No response. My God, Aizawa is going to lose it. It's not his fault that the teacher's scent is impregnated in his black clothes, it's not his fault that her odor is dilating his nostrils. "My God - what the hell is the problem? Did I do something? I didn't drink your coffees, damn it. Not this time, at least," Aizawa growled, but his gaze tried to soften when he noticed you turning to look at him. "What's wrong with you?"